


Some Nights

by ScreechTheMighty



Series: A lawyer and a PI walk into Josie's... [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hair Braiding, Not entirely healthy greiving, PTSD, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, greiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Well some nights, I wish that this all would end</i>
  <br/>
  <i>'Cause I could use some friends for a change</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or, Matt and Jessica have rough nights sometimes, and talking to each other is shockingly easy. Also, Jessica doesn't judge Matt's bruises and Matt is good at braiding hair, so bonus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my friend/RP partner Ana, whose birthday it was recently. Look, it's our babies.

She didn’t know what she was doing here. Most likely, he wasn’t even home. He was probably off doing Daredevil shit somewhere. Or lawyer shit. Anything that’d keep him away from his apartment.

But there she was. Standing outside his apartment door. Trish kept getting on her case about dealing with things in a _healthy_ fashion or whatever, so for once there wasn’t a bottle in her hands. She was starting to wish there was. “Shit,” Jessica sighed. She lifted her hand and knocked, three times. _Why bother? He’s definitely not_ …

The door opened.

… _home_.

“Jessica?”

Matt Murdock was, for once, home after dark. And wearing goddamn fuzzy pajama bottoms. “How the hell do you know it’s me?” Jessica asked. “No, never mind. I probably don’t want to know.” With Matt, the answer would probably involve how she smelled or some shit. She was used to most of the weird shit Matt had going with him, but the smell thing was still too weird for her. “What are you doing home? I thought you’d be…” _Beating the shit out of people._ “Out with some girl.”

Matt snorted. “Nah, not tonight. I have to take it easy. Doctor’s orders.” He stepped to the side to let her in. “Is everything okay?”

Jessica hesitated before stepping inside. It was dark. It was always dark at Matt’s place. She’d never really thought about the fact that a blind guy wouldn’t _need_ to have the lights on until she started hanging out with him. “Everything’s fine.” That was a pretty unconvincing _everything’s fine_ and she knew it. “I was just…in the area. Bored.”

“…uh-huh.” Matt probably didn’t need to listen to her heartbeat to hear that lie. “Well, I was just neck-deep in the _riveting_ world of contract law, if you want to join me in my suffering. And there’s a boxing match on the radio.”

Of course he listened to boxing matches while he did his legal work. “Sure. You got anything to drink?”

“Water, orange juice, beer, scotch, two bottles of some…” Matt sat back down at his kitchen table. He propped up his foot and draped an ice pack over it. “Weird organic root beer Trish found that I might like. Help yourself to whatever you want.”

“Thanks. What happened?”

“Misjudged a landing. Don’t you dare laugh at me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Jessica checked the fridge. She thought about taking one of the beers, but if she started down that path, she probably wasn’t going to stop. Weird organic root beer it was. “Contract law, huh?”

“Contract law. My favorite.” Matt kept running his fingers over the pages scattered on the table. “I don’t know who wrote this, but they should have their hands broken.”

“Harsh.” She didn’t bother with a bottle opener; the top came off pretty easily. Honestly, she didn’t taste a difference between this stuff and regular root beer, but maybe Matt would be able to. He was always going on about chemicals and wax on fruit and shit. As she joined him at the table, Jessica realized she didn’t know what to say next. Why had she come here, again? “I’d offer to help, but I don’t know anything about contract law.”

“Hmm.” Matt never really looked at people, she’d noticed. Well, he _did_ , but sometimes when he was with certain people, he didn’t even turn his head in their direction. He just tilted it. It made sense—he heard people more than he saw them—but usually he gave the impression of eye contact. Probably just to be polite. She noticed that he hadn’t put on his sunglasses, either. Having a guy stare straight ahead and only acknowledge you by head-tilting would probably be creepy if you didn’t know him.  “How goes the ‘waiting for people to bang in dark alleys’ business?”

She wasn’t sure why hearing Matt say that was so surreal. It wasn’t the “good Catholic boy” thing, either. She’d seen him covered in blood one too many times for _that_ to be an issue. “Y’know…New York is the city that sleeps around. I’m never out of the job.”

“Figured not. Is your door lock broken this week?”

“Christ, Murdock, don’t you start on me, too.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right. I’m not.” His hands stopped moving. “I worry about you. That’s what friends do.”

She knew. It was all Trish ever did. And Malcolm. Jessica just forgot Matt was capable of worrying. He never worried about his own safety, or keeping his roof door locked, or bloodstains on _his_ shit, so she figured he worried less about those things in general. No, apparently it mattered when it happened to other people. Ass. “Well, you don’t have to.”

Matt got that look he got when he wanted to say something. Whatever it was, it went away with a shake of his head. His hands started moving over the pages again. “Okay.”

That was it.

They sat in silence. That wasn’t too weird. Sometimes he’d come over or she’d come over and they’d just sit and research whatever it was the two of them were working on. She liked the quiet, most of the time. Tonight, it was making her antsy. She kept drinking the root beer. She wished it was alcoholic. Maybe that’d take the edge off. The edge off _what_ she didn’t know. She’d just been fighting this feeling that something was _wrong_ all day. Like something was coming for her, like _he_ was…

She almost choked on the root beer at that thought. She had to put the bottle down. No. He wasn’t coming back. He was _gone_ , and he _wasn’t coming back_. But it was like Jessica had been waiting for him to come back for so long that her body had forgotten how _not_ to wait. It was still bracing itself. Goddamn it, was she going to be bracing herself _forever?_

“Hey.”

“ _What?!_ ” she snapped.

The realization that she’d just yelled at Matt, when she was the one who’d waltzed into his apartment at…shit, _late_ , she didn’t know what time it was, and started drinking his weird expensive root beer, hit her hard. Jessica rubbed her eyes. “Sorry. What?”

Matt didn’t look phased by the fact that he’d been yelled at. That made it worse. _God, I’m such an asshole._ “I can’t do legal anymore. Do you like podcasts?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Well, I do like podcasts. You might like this one. It’s a murder mystery. Come on.” He stood and stretched. “Humor me, Jones. Last time I recommended you something, you didn’t hate it.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Just because I finished it doesn’t mean I didn’t hate it.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“You knew that already.” Matt was making his way to the bed. If it had been anyone else, she would’ve thought it was a come-on. Nelson thought Matt had game, but Jessica knew better. Matt had _superficial_ game. He could charm and smile, but when it went any further than that, he floundered. It was almost kind of cute. “You want that other root beer?”

“Sure.”

Jessica caved and took one of the beers as she grabbed Matt’s soda. He didn’t comment when she sat next to him on the bed. She _knew_ he knew what she had. Fortunately for her, the amount of booze she drank was _not_ one of the things Matt worried about. Or at least, not something he commented on. “Is this what you do on your nights off? Read legal paperwork and listen to murder mysteries?”

“More or less.” The audio started playing as Matt swung his legs up on the bed and replaced the ice pack. _From This American Life and WBEZ Chicago, this is Serial…_ “I don’t have many hobbies. And only…four friends. It makes socializing hard.”

“What a coincidence.” She pressed the root beer into his hand and lay down next to him. “I don’t have _any_ hobbies and I’ve only got three.”

“Am I on that list?”

“Nah. Josie’s the third friend.”

Matt laughed. “Asshole.”

“Hey, you asked.”

They didn’t talk after that. At least that damn podcast was playing to fill in the silence. Matt fiddled with his bottle in between sips. Jessica tried not to drain hers. She tried not to think. It wasn’t working too well. Not even the chatter of the woman talking about some kid accused of killing his ex was filling her head. She wanted another beer already, but she’d feel like an asshole if she drank all his alcohol. She already felt like an asshole.

_What am I doing here?_

At some point, Matt moved from fiddling with his bottle to fiddling with her hand. He did that. That was another one of those things that would’ve felt like a come-on if it had been anyone but Matt. Matt was weird. And a flake, and an idiot, and way too prone to fighting people for someone so damn squishy. But then again, she was a bitch who drank too much and didn’t lock her front door. They were a pair.

It helped that he didn’t ask too many questions. For instance, when she started leaning on him, he didn’t ask why. And she didn’t hit him when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “This is why high schoolers shouldn’t date,” Matt said finally.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“ _I_ didn’t date in high school.”

“That’s because you were raised by nuns.”

“I think it was mostly because I was a weird angry loner, but yeah, we’ll blame the nuns.” He started fiddling with her hair. “I know it’s shocking to think about, but I wasn’t always this…”

“What? Awkward and graceless?”

“Smooth.”

“Like that peanut butter Malcolm likes.”

“Jess, we’ve been over this. That shit is not peanut butter.” Jessica rolled her eyes. Matt’s hands went from idly fiddling to braiding. Not a big one, just a small one by her ear. “It’s disgusting.”

“Have you and Luke been talking again?”

“Not lately. I’ve been busy. How’s he…?” Matt’s hands stilled. “Sorry. I’m…”

Jessica shook her head. “Luke is fine.”

“I’m…”

“Shut up, Murdock.” _I don’t want to talk about it_.

And he didn’t ask.

One braid turned into three. She probably looked stupid, but she didn’t care. It was something, it was happening, and she could focus on it instead of thoughts of _him_. She drained the bottle of beer; she didn’t get up for more. Four braids. Okay. Three and a half. Matt was starting to nod off. Which meant that Jessica wasn’t going anywhere, unless she squirmed free right now.

She didn’t.

“Do you have court tomorrow?”

“Mmm…no, just…paperwork.”

“Go to sleep.”

“ _You_ go to sleep.”

Jessica didn’t bother retorting. Matt was out a few seconds later, anyway, one arm wrapped around her shoulder, his cheek resting against her head. The podcast stopped playing. Jessica didn’t move.

It was quiet again, but she could handle it. At least this way, she could pretend she was looking after him instead of worrying about herself. Worrying about someone else was easier. She could handle that.

She fell asleep eventually. When she woke up, someone had pulled a blanket over her shoulders. She smelled coffee. There was a mug on the bedside table. Matt was in the living room doing pushups. “Weirdo,” Jessica muttered.

“Good morning,” Matt replied cheerfully.

They had breakfast—oatmeal with fruit—and left. She went home. Matt went to work. He didn’t ask any questions. Jessica was thankful for that.

She didn’t say it, but she was pretty sure he knew anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that this is a bit wibbly-wobbly in relation to Matt's age and Jack's. I've seen some fics say he was 32 when he died, so I ran with it, and I put Matt at 30 because that's pretty close to Charlie Cox's age. Also I meant to have this done before season 2 but that didn't happen. Whoops.

Usually when he drank at Josie’s, he came with Foggy and Karen. Foggy, at the very _least_. Tonight, he was nursing his glass of cheap scotch alone. He didn’t usually go past one, but tonight was not his best night.

Matt hadn’t told Foggy or Karen he was coming, so he expected to drink alone. But even after the drinking he’d done, he knew a familiar impression when it came through the door. Strong heartbeat, lingering smell of whiskey and sweat, a mixture of off-brand detergent and the stuff that came from the machines at the Laundromat, and all the usual smells that sank into your skin when you’d lived in the city long enough. Jessica Jones. And her voice confirmed it. “Matt?”

“Jessica.” He lifted his glass in greeting. “You want something? I know it says no tabs, but we helped Josie with a lien one time…”

“Don’t get any ideas, Murdock,” said Josie abruptly. Despite the roughness of her voice, she did sound concerned. As concerned as Josie ever got about anyone, anyway. “You want another round?”

“Yeah, keep ‘em coming. Jess?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Jessica Jones, turning down alcohol. Combine that with the concern in her voice, and he knew he was in for a concerned lecture. “What’re you doing here?”

“Uh…drinking? What are _you_ doing here?”

“I was in the area, hunting down some lovebirds. I thought I saw my favorite attorney sitting at the bar, so I figured I’d stop in.”

“Aww, I’m your favorite? Over Jeri?”

“Shut up, Murdock.” He heard his glass getting filled up as she spoke. “The hell are you drinking anyway?”

“Scotch. What time is it?”

“It’s, uh…” He heard the rustle of her sleeve. “12:09 in the morning.”

12:09 in the morning. Technically the next day, which meant… “It’s my birthday.” He grinned and lifted the glass. “Look at that. I did make it to thirty.”

The comment _did_ get a bit of a laugh out of Jessica. “A goddamn miracle. At this rate, you might actually get old with the rest of us.”

Matt laughed too. “Actually, uh…” Josie re-filled his glass. The smell of it filled his nose; he focused on that instead of the less than desirable smell of the patrons. “I’m two years younger than my dad was when he died. So.”

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. Matt covered the slip with a long sip of the scotch. Jessica wasn’t buying it. Damn it. He knew he should quit while he was ahead, but he kept sipping at the scotch. “…I’m sorry,” Jessica said finally.

Matt shook his head. “Nah, don’t be. It’s not your fault. You didn’t shoot him.” _Shit_ , he usually held his alcohol better than this. “It’s fine, Jessica, really.”

“…mm-hmm. Right. You gonna be good to get home?”

“Pfft. Yeah. Totally. I’ve done crazier things.” _Goddamnit it, Murdock._ At this rate, he’d be standing on the bar and telling the whole damn world he was Daredevil. “I’m fine.”

She _really_ wasn’t buying that. “I’ll walk you back anyway. Knowing this shithole, there’s probably some jackass out tonight who’s enough of a dick to rob a blind guy.” She nudged him gently. “Do you have anything going on tomorrow?”

“No, why?”

“My place is closer.”

“Jessica Jones, are you trying to seduce me?”

Her next nudge was more of a shove. “I _meant_ if you wanted to crash on my couch…”

“I know, I know.” He clumsily patted her shoulder. “Thanks, Jessica. I’ll…”

Next thing Matt knew, his hand was lingering on her shoulder. She was always wearing that leather jacket, always sheathed in layers, but that didn’t do much to hide her strength. She felt far more solid than someone of her height and build should have. He wanted to rest his head on her shoulder—he’d done that before. He desperately wanted someone solid to lean on.

“…you know, I think I’ll…I’ll take you up on that.” The mumbled sentence was the only good thing the alcohol had produced tonight; he probably never would’ve agreed if he hadn’t been drinking. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Jessica was silent as Matt took another sip of scotch—when he was done, the glass was suddenly plucked from his hands. “Jess, c’mon…”

“You’ve had enough. I’ll cover you for it.” She downed what was left in a few gulps. Matt wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or worried. Money was slapped on the bar; she smacked his shoulder before he could protest. “You said it was your birthday. Shut up and get your cane.”

He got his cane and left. She let him hold onto her arm the entire walk back—not that she’d ever made his habit of grabbing elbows weird. She didn’t make a lot of things weird. He’d always appreciated that. That appreciation him, sudden and hard. “Hey, Jessica?”

“Yeah?”

Jessica couldn’t take a compliment. She tended to brush them off. Matt knew the impulse—he’d done it before himself. And usually he respected that and kept his comments to a minimum. Tonight, he was tipsy. And suddenly very emotional. “You’re a good friend.”

Her heart stuttered. “Shut up.”

“I mean it.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re a good person. I promise I won’t throw up on your couch.”

She huffed quietly. “Throw up on that thing all you want. It’s a piece of garbage.” Matt stumbled over a bump in the curb; there was a slightly laugh in her voice as she dragged him back upright. “Actually, maybe you should take the bed.”

“Jessica…”

“I don’t want to stick a drunk guy on that couch.”

“And you say you’re not a good person.”

“What did I say about shutting up?”

He shut up.

The elevator was out of order; she had to help him up the stairs. Matt didn’t mind the stairs. He’d always been freaked out by her elevator, and he got the feeling she wasn’t too fond of it, either. “Did you lock your door?” he asked as they finally reached her hallway.

“Jesus Christ, Matt.” She didn’t answer beyond that, but she didn’t have to; Matt could hear the door wasn’t locked when she opened it. Jessica guided him into her room, kicking a bottle of whiskey out of the way as they went, and more or less dropped him on the bed. “Shoes off. I’ll get you some water.”

It took him longer than it usually did to get off his shoes—a sure sign that he didn’t hold his alcohol as well as he used to. Maybe he never had. Matt was in the process of laying down when Jessica came back in and pressed a water bottle into his hand. “Drink up. You’ll probably still feel like shit tomorrow, but you’ll feel less like shit.”

Thank God the office wasn’t opening until late tomorrow. Matt started chugging from the water as Jessica sat down next to him. The mattress creaked as she shifted slightly in place. Anxiety, if he had to guess, but he could be misreading things. It was hard when he couldn’t actually see her, and when he was drunk. _Should I say something?_ He didn’t dwell on the question for too long after—his brain went ahead and spit something out. “My dad would’ve liked you.”

“…yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“…what was he like? Your dad. Tell me about your dad.”

He hadn’t talked much about Dad in…shit, a long time. Sometimes, he let things slip to Foggy, but the memories were still too painful. It had been twenty years, and every time he thought about it, he still felt like the scared kid who’d run down that alley knowing his dad was gone. But maybe it was the alcohol, or the knowledge that Jessica had lost people, too. But tonight…

“He was a boxer. He lost more than he won, which…made a lot of sense later on, but he’d come home beat up regardless. I used to patch him up. We couldn’t really afford a doctor. He started finding someone else to do it after I lost my sight.” Matt fiddled with the bottle as he spoke. “He used to sleep with the pillow over his head...in hindsight, he had _really_ good hearing. I couldn’t sneeze in my room without him knowing. I’d read in my bed at night sometimes, and he _always_ knew. It was scary.” When he laughed, he realized that the tears had started welling up in his eyes. “He could, uhm…he could be a hardass about school, but I think that was just…he said one time that he barely graduated high school. Boxing was all he knew. He wanted life to be better for me. I get that. I just wish…” He rubbed his eyes. “I wish he wasn’t so down on himself, y’know? _Don’t be like me, Mattie._ He said that all the time, but he was…he was the best man I knew.”

Damn it. He might’ve been opening up, but he didn’t want to make Jessica uncomfortable. She’d definitely get uncomfortable if he started crying. He lay back on the bed to give himself time to think. Jessica didn’t move. “…he got kicked out of a PTA meeting one time.”

The startled laugh that got out of Jessica got Matt giggling, too. “He _what?!_ ”

“He got…when I was seven, there was this kid who kept picking on me…” Jessica lay down next to him, their shoulders pressed together. “And I didn’t say anything about it until he pushed me on the playground one time. Skinned knees are harder to hide than hurt feelings.”

“You didn’t kick his ass?”

“Oh, I would’ve, but they called us in and he ran off. I _thought_ about it, then Dad found out, and…well, bad luck that the meeting was that night. He showed up, hunts down the kid’s dad…keep in mind, this guy is twice Dad’s size, so everyone was looking really nervous. I wasn’t. Dad beat people taller than that. I mean, he got his ass kicked by people taller than that, but I was seven, what do you want?” Jessica chuckled again. “They didn’t start a fight, but, uh, they were pretty close. And then Dad got asked to leave.”

“Did the kid leave you alone?”

“Not really, but a teacher got involved, so he never pushed me again. Just called me weird and stole the kickball from me.”

“God, kids are little monsters.”

“Yeah.”

They trailed off into silence. Matt hadn’t realized he’d switched from fiddling with the bottle to fiddling with her hand until then. She hadn’t stopped him, so he didn’t let go. “Scotch. He liked scotch. That’s why…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t ask him to. Silence settled over the both of them as Matt remembered the taste of scotch and the smell of blood and his dad’s quiet laugh. The way his shoulders would tense before the needle went into his skin. He used to hold Matt when Matt was having a hard time sleeping. Matt would fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. Even before he got his super-hearing, Matt liked that sound.

His fingers hovered over the veins in Jessica’s wrist. She didn’t stop him.

Exhaustion hit, both mental and physical. As he drifted off to sleep, he heard Jessica say one more thing: “Heineken.”

He knew what she meant.

When Matt woke up the next morning, his head ached. He smelled coffee, whiskey…bagels, maybe? There were two voices in the living room. He couldn’t quite hear them; Jessica had shut the door. He managed to stumble to the door without tripping over anything. Open the door, down the short hallway… “Jess?” Matt croaked.

The voices stopped. Matt realized, belatedly, that he’d gone out last night in the Columbia sweater with the bleach stain on the front. And that Jessica had taken off his sunglasses while he was asleep. And he was probably visibly hungover. That’d explain why the heartbeat he didn’t recognize skipped a few beats. “…Jessica…?” asked the person—male, sounded about Matt’s age—warily.

“Don’t worry about him. And tell her I’ll be there this afternoon, okay?”

“…okay.”

“Thanks for the bagels, Malcolm.”

“No problem.”

_Malcolm, Malcolm…_ yeah, Jessica had mentioned a Malcolm before. He lived in her apartment building and had been affected by Kilgrave too. And of course the first time Matt meets him, it’s when he’s hungover. “Hey,” Matt mumbled, lifting a hand in greeting.

“Yeah, hey,” said Malcolm before slipping out.

Yup. Great first impression.

“You like blueberry bagels?” Jessica asked. She shoved the bagel in question into his hand as she walked by before he could answer. “Eat something. You look like hell.”

“Daredevil looks like hell. Imagine that.” Matt bit into the bagel and fumbled his way to the couch. “Sorry…”

“For what? Malcolm’s seen weirder. He probably thinks we’re sleeping together, but…” He heard the rustling of cloth as Jessica walked back into the room. “I think I can live with that.”

“Does he know you could break me in half?” Matt chuckled and winced. “What time is it?”

“9:30. Your friend Foggy called. I told him you’d be late. _He_ probably thinks we’re sleeping together now, too, so if he asks…”

Oh, Jesus. Foggy would _definitely_ ask. “He thinks I’m sleeping with most women.”

“And you don’t correct him on that assumption, I’m guessing.”

“At this point? It might shatter his worldview if I did.”

“Yeah, and I bet it was a good cover for those bruises for a while.” Matt nearly choked on his next bite of bagel; Jessica laughed in response. “Hey, I gotta go do a thing. You fine getting home?”

Matt nodded. “I have cash. I can take a cab.”

“Good. Uh, there’s nothing really in the kitchen, but if you want to borrow the shower or something, go for it. Don’t worry about the door. I’ll see you later.”

“Mm-hmm. Jessica?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

She hesitated at the door. The sound of leather might’ve been a shrug. “No problem.”

“Catch you later.”

“Yeah.”

And then she was gone.

He didn’t use her shower. He finished the bagel, and the water from the night before, and he left. He almost locked the door behind him, but didn’t. Matt was pretty sure she didn’t carry keys. If he locked it, she’d just break the lock, and she actually had a working lock for once. No sense in messing that up.

He’d bother her more about staying safe later. She was one of the only friends he had, after all. He wanted her to be safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the fun. song of the same name.


End file.
